


Flames Only Rise

by Susannagwendoline



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susannagwendoline/pseuds/Susannagwendoline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Young Justice team get a surprise when a mysterious girl is brought in by Bruce Wayne. They discover that she was the daughter of a Justice League member who died when she was a child. Ashlee Dener is now sixteen and cold hearted, and broken beyond repair. She helps the others and makes choices that shape the rest of her life. She constantly blames herself for her mother's death, which was a tragic accident.<br/>Cue Dick Grayson.<br/>He supports her though her rough times, even though it has been eight years.<br/>With the rise of a villain who knows the new addition, Blaze, well the team must overcome their differences and work together to take him down. The race is on to find out how this villain knows her...<br/>And what she finds out nearly tears her fledging life apart...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, I know, another one on the go. What can I say? I get new ideas every single day. It's hard not to act upon, y'know?  
> Just to warn you, this does contain a little strong language and later on, a chapter that some readers may find triggering.  
> But, relax, it's way ahead, and I'll just remind you.  
> So, yeah.  
> Young Justice was an awesome tv show. Nightwing was amazing. And Kid Flash.  
> Yes, he is alive in this. Fight me. XD.  
> I hope you guys who put up with my crap enjoy.

9 Years Previously...

_You don't know what you have..._.

My mom sits next to me, my booster seat making it easier to see out of the front window. It is pretty dull. Typical Gotham City. Nothing much to see, nearly always raining and just plain black and white. The road is wet, so my mother takes care while driving along it. It has no houses on either side, just trees that are darkened by the cloudy night sky. The only thing that I can actually see is the soaked concrete in front of me, the yellow headlights shining on it. The radio is on, but the sound is low. I strain to hear the song. My mother senses it, and smiles gently, flicking her hand down and switching it up a little higher. My mother and I are different from the normal people of Gotham. We have these weird powers. I have flame, which I can control. And, I can read auras. An aura is the light around someone's head, and every person has a different colour. I used it when my mom trained me in combat. Just in case something happens to her. She's a member of the Justice League with Superman and Auntie Diana. She saves the world, and has a kid. If that's not impressive, then I don't know what is. But, I have to keep my mouth shut. Her identity is secret, and she is a popular superhero. It makes my mom even cooler. I have a superhero for a mother. I listen to the gentle beat, the female voice. It is new to me, but I like it. She glances at me, her deep green eyes full of joy. She turns her attention back to the dreary, empty road. I kick my legs.

"Guess where we are going, angel." My mother says, hands around the steering wheel. I look at her, trying to think of a response to her question. Her eyes sparkle, and I pick up an emotion I have never felt from her before; an emotion I have not felt before. I do not know the name of it. But, it makes her happy. And, when my mom is happy, I am too. I giggle.

"I dunno," I say simply. "Tell me." She rolls her eyes. I giggle again, bumping my feet on the chair as I bring them back. She chuckles. Her voice is light and gentle, and I feel a smile pull at my lips. She has such a pretty laugh. It lights up a room, and makes anyone else there smile along. Bubbly, bright. My mother is a fun loving person. And the best mother a kid could ask for. And, guess what? 

_She's my mother_.

And that makes me feel better.

"No, we are going to meet a very close friend of mine," She says, and I feel her nervous happiness. Oh, my mommy has a crush. That's new. I pretend I don't know, and grin toothily. I am really happy that she has found someone else. My dad left after he found out I could shoot flame from my hands. He wanted a normal child, not a freak. My mother was beyond angry and never wanted to see him again. it hurt her more, because she was a 'freak' as well. That he had married her and never known her secret. Oh, well. At least she is happy now. She has found a new guy... Who I am going to meet?

"And...?" I ask, excited to know more about him. She laughs, eyes glimmering in the dim lighting of the car.

"You met him when you were a baby, angel," She continues, brushing a strand of clean blonde hair from her eyes. "But, you won't remember. He's been asking about you. He can see how grown up you are." I smile, blushing. Aww. How adorable. I don't remember him, mother is right. But, I get to see him. Now. I bounce a little in my seat, giddy. Happy. 

"Awesome!" I giggle, way to overexcited. My mother just laughs again, eyes firmly on the road. I watch her, the way her hands slide around the black leather wheel, the ways her eyes shine in joy. The way her ring catches the light. I imprint every little detail of her in my mind. So, in case something happens to her or me, I will never, ever forget it.

_***_.

_You will never know what you have..._.

. The car jolts a little as it goes over a bump. I yelp a little, caught of guard, but settle as soon as I sense everything is fine. My mother casts me a soft, calming smile. She returns her emerald eyes to the road. A song I recognize comes on and I start to sing along. My mother just listens, content. She likes listening to me sing. We sometimes sing together. My mother says I will be a very good singer. A grin pastes itself on her full red lips as she listens to my voice. My mom isn't one for make-up, but red lipstick is her fave colour. I tried using it once. Oh, that was really funny. I came in, trying to act like I was a model, my lips coated in the stuff. My mother did the same to her own and we took a picture. We laughed for ages afterwards. I giggle to myself softly, and my mother raises an eyebrow. 

"What's funny, my little angel?" She questions lightly, smooth voice coming over to my ears.

"Just thinking about the time I used your lipstick." My mother snorts and we laugh together again. She shakes her head slightly, eyes never leaving the road. She is very careful. Doesn't want any harm to come to me.

"Now, you little minx, you used to get up to much worse." She chuckles, voice throaty. I frown. What does she mean by that? I try to read her emotions, but all I get is amusement. And something I do not understand. Maybe I am too young too understand. I will learn though. When I am a big girl, like my mother. A good person, like my mother.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. She gives me a small glance and a smirk. 

"You were three, and I left the room to get something, and when I came back, you had-" She is cut short, something running across the slick road. She lets out a shocked gasp, wrenching the steering wheel to the side sharply, making me lean into the cold door. The car spins out and I scream, sensing the danger almost instantly. My mother struggles with it, lips pressed together in a tight line. All traces of the story are gone from her face, all traces of amusement. We go through a wooden fence, the windscreen cracking under it. The car hits something and flips over. My mother casts me a look, eyes filled with fear.

"Hold on, angel." She whispers before the windows shatter with a loud crack and everything goes black.

_***_.

My head hurts. My face and arms sting, like I have been scratched my a cat. My eyelids feel heavy. I force them open and see nothing but the dim light of headlights. I snort sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Well, one thing still works. I blink, still dizzy. Everything comes rushing back at once. The laughter. The story my mother never got to finish. The rabbit or something sprinting across the road. My mom telling me to hold on. The darkness. I struggle to free myself from the seatbelt, arms bleeding slightly from the glass that cover my lap, mixed with red. It snaps and the fabric stings my cheek as it whips past my face. I groan. Glance over to my mommy's seat. And nearly scream in horror. Her face is littered with cuts. Blood coats the side of her head, like she banged it really hard on something. The car door is crumpled, pinning her down a little. My mouth drops open. I see her light pink aura. I blink. It flickers. I brush the glass off me and twist to my mother, brushing her stringy hair out of her closed eyes. She breathes shallowly. I sense her agony and it makes tears spring to my eyes. She is in so much pain. But, what scares me more is that fact that she is dying. My mother is dying. And, I know there isn't anything I can do. She has not got a lot of time left. An ambulance won't get here in time. She;ll die. No matter what I do. Tears make my cuts throb as the stream down my face. I push my mother's shoulder lightly, not wanting to cause her anymore hurt. I wouldn't want to. I don't want her in pain. It makes me hurt.

"Mommy?" I question in a hoarse whisper, voice shaking. She doesn't respond. "Mommy?" I say again, louder this time. A soft sob escapes my lips and her eyes fly open. Her breath wheezes past her lips. I look at her. Her green eyes are now half-closed, her breathing wheezy and slow. She blinks tiredly. Lifts her hand painstakingly slowly, before she rests it on my cheek. She is so weak. My poor mother. My heart twists for her. This was never meant to happen. Ever. I use my hand to hold her soft one against my cheek. She grimaces, opening her mouth slightly. I raise a hand. 

"Don't try to talk, mother," I say firmly, not wanting her to waste what energy she has left. "Save your strength." She just smiles dazedly, not listening to me. I sigh, feeling to smooth skin of one finger run across my cheek, gentle, avoiding my cuts. 

"You know what you need to do, my precious angel." She says, voice cracking. She clenches her hand and I wince at the force. She sees this and relaxes, an apology in her eyes. I smile, reassuring her everything is okay between us. She knows I know that she is losing her hold on life. This beautiful life. "Do what is... Right. Be safe... It's a dangerous world out there." I shake my head, rocking back a little, new tears forming. No. She can't go yet. She can't! Denial sets in. I will not let her die. I can't!

"No," I say broken, my emotions wrecked. Her light pink aura flickers again and I watch in terror. "Please, don't leave me. I'm scared." She gives me another smile. Her eyelids flutter.

"You are a strong little girl, angel." She says so quietly I strain to hear her beautiful, musical voice once more. "You are my daughter. And I am glad I had such an angel like you, Ashlee." No. I rock back and forth, holding her hand tighter, clutching onto what little life she has left in her. I am not strong. Not without her. I want to meet the boy! I want to have a family again. I want mom to be happy again.

"Tell me the story," I beg, voice barely above a whisper. She frowns, then remembers. She chuckles, then coughs. I wait until it does down, and her breathing sounds worse than before. I clutch her hands even tighter, smelling the perfume on her wrist.

"Oh," She says. Smiles again, dreamily. Her eyes waver out of the the broken window and to the deep blue sky. "You were three... Angel, you managed to get the cookie jar down... You tipped all the cookies out onto the floor And..." She trails off, voice dying in her throat. I wait. Nothing. I look back into her eyes and see the light fade from them. Until then are no longer full of life. I watch her aura in horror. It flickers. One last time, vanishing before my wide eyes. I sob. She is dead. My mother, my light,

_My life_.

My only family. Gone. I grab her phone, tears drying out. I set my face, staring into my mother;s lifeless eyes. Dial a number. It rings. It picks up.

"911, what is your emergency?" The female operator asks. I wait a few seconds, the lump clearing. "Hello?" 

"There has been an accident," I say monotone."The woman seems to be dead. You will have to trace the call because I do not know where we are." I then drop the phone on the seat, muting it. I lean over to my mother, plant a soft kiss on her forehead. Close her eyes with my fingers lightly. I cannot look at them any longer. I will break down. i gather what is left of myself and clamber out of the wrecked vehicle, making my way back the way we were driving before this happened. I know, as I walk, my life will never be the same. This is the day will follow my mother's rules to the letter. This is the day I disappear. This is the day I continue training hard. This is the day all emotion dies. I walk away, back turned from the totalled car and the woman in the car. This is the day my childhood ends.

_Until it's gone._

.


	2. Fighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman discovers a youngster in an alley, helping an lady being mugged.  
> He watches from the roof of a nearby and notices her fighting style and remembers the woman he found dead near his house, car completely wrecked. A booster seat was there; but no child.  
> He knows who she is...  
> And wants her on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like a song one, because the song inspired me to write it.  
> It's called 'Wild Heart' by the most underrated band ever, Daughtry.  
> The lyrics go with Ashlee and her mother in a way.  
> So, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> P.S:  
> I know I keep updating it, editing it, whatever, but I was reading it to my friend aloud and noticed I missed some stuff. I am a late night writer, if that makes any sense to you. I write during the night because it seems the best stuff comes out late.   
> Next chapter will be up soon for all three of my stories, so relax. XD

_You used to be the girl that set the world on fire._.

 _And they doused your soul in water, but the flames raged higher._.

I watch from the shadows of the alleyway, eye alert and wide, mask brushing my face. Move over, Batman. There's a new girl in town. Yep. I'm using my powers for a good cause. Helping people. It makes me feel less guilty. Makes me feel like I am doing some good in my mother's memory. Even though she is gone, I know she is still here. I sense her presence. Maybe I am just delirious with grief, but it couldn't be. She died a long time ago. I feel kinda guilty that I left her there, cold and alone. My face twists bitterly. Not like it mattered. She was already dead. A woman's heels click down the dirty, dank concrete and I sense an issue instantly. She is jostled, and I hear her sharp intake of breath, ready to scream. It comes out muffled. She is being mugged. I clench my fist, cracking my fingers as I do so. Time to act.

 _Used to act so tough, like you could walk on a wire._.

 _And they called you Devil's daughter, such a pretty liar._.

I hear her struggles, whimpers when I make my move, standing in the lip of the alley, hair billowing sideways in the strong gust of wind. Gotham isn't safe. Even with the Batman running around, criminals roam the streets in hopes of catching something. In this woman's case, she was caught. I stand there, the woman struggling with the weight of the man, his arms around her waist as he tries to take her down to the filthy concrete. She wears a grey jacket. Black jeans. Shiny heels. She can't take him on her own. I pull my stick, twirling it around my fingers. I won't need to use it, I'm just waiting. Clear my throat politely. The man freezes, looking up. He wears all black. His eyes are shaded. He smirks, unaware of what I can do to his fat ass. Idiot. 

"Well, well, well," He tuts, straightening, woman still in his hold. She widens her eyes at me. Taking in my black cat suit, sleeves personalized to end at the elbow, showing the pale flesh of my lower arm. My hands are covered with fingerless black leather gloves. My scuffed combat boots. I cross my arms as he looks me up and down, like I am a prize. Sorry, but I am way to young for this creep. And he's ugly. No offence to him, but I can't deny the truth. 

"Let go of the woman and settle this," I say, voice deadly calm. "Like a man." He laughs loudly, voice ringing off the grimy walls. I roll my eyes at his immaturity. He shoves the woman, and she goes sprawling. Her red aura glimmers in anger. The man's dark green tells me what punch he is going to throw first.

 _You were burnin' like the summer, crazy like a fox._.

 _You hit hit harder than a drummer, like a wave on the rocks._.

He runs forward, and I leap, using my hands to my advantage. I press them against his spine, hand standing off him, landing in a crouch. I help the woman to her feet, her fear an immense wave over me. I hold her to my shoulder, looking in her blue eyes. 

"Go," I hiss quietly, but softly. She nods, shaking my hands in thanks. Her eyes drift over my shoulder and I register the warning. I shove the woman back lightly, knocking her out of my way. Back-kicking, I catch the man in the stomach. The air leaves him in a rush and I spin, round housing him in the side. He groans, and the blade shimmers in his hand. He straightens and pushes the knife towards my face. I raise my hands, blocking it and I bring my knee up into his stomach. The woman meets my eyes, and I nod. She kicks her heels off, and runs, and I feel her gratitude. A small smile reaches my lips and I flip over the man, landing a kick to the back. He goes staggering. I spin back to face him. He is facing me. 

"Give up," I say, barely breathing hard. He pants, sweat coating his face. He comes at me again. What an idiot. I punch him square in the face, and he hits the concrete. A small sound escapes his lips. Then, all is silent. I relax. Rub my knuckles. Damn, that felt good. It's karma for trying to mug that woman. Or whatever his dastardly plan was. It would never work. I would never let it. I guess this is my payment for my crime. Oh, yeah. My crime? My mother's death. It was all my fault.

 _Mine._.

I hear a sound near me and look up, seeing a shadow drop from the rooftop nearby. Without a second thought or hesitation, I drop to one knee, spinning round and taking the figure clean off his feet. He crashes into the cold concrete, groaning on impact. I stand there, heart racing. Take in the dark grey aura. I stop breathing for a second and scold myself mentally. I just knocked the Batman off his feet.

 _Batman._.

I reach down, offering my hand. He takes it and haul him to his feet, his glove silky soft against my fingers. I lift him up as if he weighs nothing.

"Jesus," I mutter, looking away. "You scared me." He rubs his back, wincing. I feel bad for knocking him over. I should have read his aura properly before I reacted. He rolls his shoulders and looks around, seeing the threat is down. He lands his stern gaze on the man who still lies on the pavement, and back to me. He raises an eyebrow. I turn, hearing a sound from behind me, a scuffling. I twist back to see the man struggling to his feet. He groans. I feel a wave of over-protectiveness wash over me and Batman goes rigid, ready to take him out. I hold up my slender hand. He frowns, confused by my action. I look him in the eyes.

"Excuse me, for you, just a moment," I say, turning from the Bat and to the thug, who is on his feet, but unsteady. This fight shall be easy. He is still dazed from the encounter with my knuckles. His nose bleeds, the red liquid running down his top lip. He raises his fists and I scoff, shaking my head. "I thought I told you to give up." Before he has a chance to move, I run at him, jumping and wrapping my strong legs around his throat. He gasps, shocked to the core. His aura thrums with it. I grunt, arching back and twisting to the side. He topples over, unable to hold himself up with me on his shoulders. We are both inclined to hit the concrete, but I know this move like I know this city. I unwind my legs and spin to the side. He collides with the floor, a dull thud ringing out. He screams, but it dies down into silence. I stand there, head lowered to his position, and fists there too, just in case he's faking it. He isn't, but it was caution. I sigh, exhaling the adrenaline. I walk back to Batman, who stands there looking dumbfounded. I hide a smile. I stand before him, arms crossed loosely. 

"You're an impressive fighter," he praises. I nod my head in thanks, cheeks dusty pink from the kind comment. He looks at me like he knows me, but can't place who. "Who are you?" I shake my head, chuckling in a low tone. Did he really just ask that? What a dumbass.

"Now, now," I counter playfully. "I could ask you the same thing, Batboy." He scoffs at the petty name. I meet his gaze and I sense his fear, realization... Relief? My green eyes cloud over with confusion. Relief? Why that? I don't understand. Before I can ask him what is bothering him, he rips his mask off and my jaw drops. Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne? What...The fuck? His dark eyes are filled with hope. His short hair is ruffled from the mask. 

"Alice? Alice Dener?"

 _***_.

I go cold all over. How did he know that? How does he know my mother's name? I am confused, but her name makes me hurt. I've suffered this for years, forever and a day, and her name still hurts me. Still reminds me what happened. What I lost. What I will never become. I swallow the pain back and set a blank expression. Did I bring this pain on myself? Not trusting my voice box, I just shake my head lightly. He looks depressed, his eyes darkening. He feels humiliated. He pulls his mask on, but before he does, he shoots me a look that reads 'don't breathe a word'. I watch him. His aura shows that he is going to jump on the dumpster and disappear, his depression like a wave. I'm wide awake right now. I'm missing out on something. He leaves and I will lose something. I don't know what... I do in a way, but I have no idea what. I take a few breaths and watch everything in slow motion. His muscled back retreating, his armour moving as he leaves. I need to do something. I blink and on impulse again, I snatch hold of his wrist. He stops and whips around to face me, mouth in a tight line. He moves so fast, his long black cape slaps the air. I look him in the eyes and know by his pretty aura I can trust him. I swallow back the lump thinking about my mother. I undo the strap of my mask and pull it away, revealing a long scar on my cheek, from the crash. he touches it lightly, but I do not feel the urge to retreat. His touch calms me. My green eyes go to their widest, surprised by this caring side. I knew he wasn't intimidating by his aura; he just acts that way to make criminals piss their frilly panties. 

 

"I knew her," I say very quietly. I cast my gaze around, anywhere but at him. "She was... My mother." Bruce nearly chokes on his next breath. He kneels in front of me, lips parted. He looks like he has been slapped. He draws me to his shoulder tentatively, as if he is scared I am not real, that I will disappear and he will wake up. His emotions are in a whirl, making me trip balls. My arms are hanging loose. I don't know affection much, but I know how to hug. I slide my arms around him and hold him lightly, shoeing him that I am real, not a figment of his imagination. A breathy chuckle escapes him and he pulls back, holding me at arms length. 

"I never lost hope," He says, making a dusty pink blush form on my cheeks. "I never gave up looking for you. And now I see you were hiding in plain sight." His voice lowers. I feel hope reignite in my shattered heart. He never gave up, huh? Can I make something good of this? I'm tired of being alone, tired of being misunderstood by everyone I meet. I'll try to make things right this time round. I'll start over. "I always though the crash was my fault," He says in a hoarse whisper. I look at him, surprised. "She was bringing you to meet me when it...Happened." Ah. She was crushing on her childhood friend, Bruce Wayne. She was there for him after his parents died, and was close. They never lost touch. Even after became rich with his industry. I remember the bed time stories she used to tell me about the things they got up to as kids. I slide my hand into his and squeeze it tightly. he gives me a shocked look.

"It was no one's fault." I say as firmly as I can, even though I do not believe it myself. I should, but I don't. I force a smile to come on my face, reassuring Bruce. He thanks me quietly. I wish my mother was here. He lets go, walking to the dumpster. I get the crippling fear that he is going to leave me. He jumps on the dumpster, barely making a sound. He waits and I feel confused. I raise an eyebrow. He turns to me with a smirk and a sigh. 

"Are you coming or not?" He asks, and I hear the smile voice. I shake my head and run over, leaping next to him. He unclips the grapple hook and wraps an arm around me tightly. I hear it scrape against the rock and I hiss when we suddenly take off. He helps me up properly and I feel vertigo. I am not particularly fond of heights, so I move away from the edge. Bruce chuckles. "I have some people you might want to meet, Ashlee." He says. "They have been waiting a long time to see you again." I smile. He looks at me as we walk across the roof slowly. He watches my every move, as if reminding himself of what my mother looked like at my age. 

"What is your name?" He asks. Is he on drugs? Or just really forgetful? Like, what? He sees my confusion and amusement. He grunts, tutting. "No, I mean what you hide yourself with." Oh. I smile at him. He raises an eyebrow. 

"Blaze." He snorts, finding it funny. I click my fingers, summoning a ball of fire, and the laughter dies on his lips. I smugly put it out. "That's the reason why." I saunter off ahead, hearing Bruce's chuckling behind me as he follows.

 _Take me back, to those barefoot summer nights_.

 _Take me back, running down those highway lights_.

 _Remember when, we said don't let go 'till we die?_.

 _Take me back, to that fire in your eyes_.

 _'Cause I know it ain't gone to fire, take me back to you and to your wild heart._.


	3. One Step At A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashlee follows Bruce to her new home. She doubts at first if she will be accepted.  
> She meets her mother's friend again.  
> And sees two people she never thought she never expected to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a little short, I ran out of ideas and my brother kept getting in my way.  
> And college keeps getting in my way too.  
> Oh, well.  
> I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The shadows of the doorway are big enough to hide in as Bruce makes his way through the living area of the building he brought me too. And I must say, the Batmobile is awesome. It's been so long since I sat in that leather seat. So very long... Shaking my head clear I lean against the wall, sighing. They will want to know happened after her death. What happened in my shattered life. What I left behind. I watch through the door Bruce sighing heavily. A woman with dark hair comes in, and I see a group of kids sat on the sofa, looking around my age. I don't know they are or what they are doing here. It scares me a little. What if they don't accept me? I see the woman's face, her hair curling around her cheeks, framing her face. Her blue eyes are wide and full of an emotion I haven't felt or seen for years. Fear. She grips Bruce's shoulders tightly, biting her lip. I sense her nervousness.

"Did you find her this time?" She asks, voice full of the fear I dislike. That emotion is unnecessary. Bruce doesn't change his face and Diana swallows, looking saddened. Oh, what an ass he is being. He is toying with her emotions. That isn't right. Just because I have none of my own, doesn't mean I can feel them. If that makes any sense. 

"See for yourself, Auntie Diana." Her blue eyes light up and she walks towards the door hesitantly. "She's.. Different." He adds quietly. I feel his small shard of pain and I cover a grunt with my hand. Dammit, that hurt a lot more than I thought it would. And not just his emotion hitting me. That comment was a kick to my non-existent balls. I don't want to move now. I fold my arms carefully so that Wonder Woman can't catch my movement. Diana smiles gently in to the darkness, her warmth radiating off her. She offers a slender, strong hand. 

"Take one step at a time, dear." She whispers. "It's been a long time." What if they turn me away? Tears sting my eyes and I swallow. I feel my legs moving and I appear in the doorway, running a finger up and down my scar apprehensively. Diana stands up, laughing heartily and she hugs me tightly, her soothing voice breaking a little. I hug her back loosely. She can see I am different. She pulls away, holding me at arms length searching my face. She takes in my scarred cheek, and I shift uncomfortably. The deep hue of purple tips to my blonde ponytail. She nods. I raise an eyebrow, confused. 

"You're mother would be so proud of what you've become," She says, blinking back tears. I smile at her, in thanks. Bruce pulls me from Diana and I dig my heels in when I see where he is leading me. To the teenagers. Nope. I look at him, wide-eyed. He keeps pulling my arm. He is much stronger than me, but I did take him down with a kick. I am practically dragged towards the kids. He stops and I hide behind him. I take a breath and lock eyes with Diana, who chuckles. This isn't funny. I am afraid. Ugh. Snorting in disgust at myself for being afraid, I step out from behind Bruce folding my arms. I steady my racing heart. Well.. That 's a lie. 

"This is..." I cut him off, looking at a green skinned girl, her ginger hair in a sleek ponytail. Her eyes meet mine and I step closer. She rolls her eyes. A girl stands next to her, giving me a funny look that makes me want to punch her straight in the jaw. Her blonde hair hangs over he shoulders, her green uniform crumpled from her postion against the wall. A quiver and a bow stand nearby her feet, as if she is going to need it. I swallow, nervously, pulling my mask off and taking my hair down. I shake it over my shoulders. The pretty green skinned girl's mouth drops. So do the others. They all stare at me, shocked. 

"Ashlee?" She nearly shrieks. I nod. Stop moving and shoot a look at her. I know that voice...

_***_.

"Megan?" I ask back, dropping my tense position. The girl leaning against the wall, nearly falls over. She follows Megan, pulling he mask off and grinning. The urge to punch her fades. She leaps over the table and we collide, and she hugs me tightly. She snorts, ruffling my hair, and I push her off playfully, flattening my hair. She snorts again, shaking her head. Artemis hugs me next, and I snicker. She punches me in the arm, but I grab her fist before she gets close. She grunts, pulling her hand free from mine. 

"I hate you." She chuckles, ruffling my hair and I tut, ducking out of her way and looking in a mirror, seeing the top bit sticking up. I lick my fingers and pat it down, shooting her a dirty look. Artemis grins in an evil way. I see the scar on my cheek, and I brush it with my hand, but Bruce whips his gloved hand out and stops me, looking it at.

"Stop touching it, please." He whispers. "It's red now." I raise an eyebrow, confused and I look in the mirror again. Bruce is right. I've rubbed the skin off. Damn. I sigh. Let my hand drop. Hum a little. Megan hauls me after her and I yelp at the sudden movement, dropping forward and tripping over my feet. I straighten quickly so that I don't face-plant the carpet. I chuckle lowly, catching up to her so that I don't get my arm ripped out of its socket or run into something. I guess I'm staying with Megan until Bruce says otherwise.


	4. The Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Wayne reminisces on Alice after her daughter appears and opens the gift he received from Alice on his eighteenth. The gift he has not opened since her death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in third POV (Point Of View) because it fits better with what I had in mind.  
> Yes, I know, another song like one. But this song fits this situation perfectly. It is 'What If' by Kate Winslet.  
> The lyrics have been changed a tiny bit to fit the gender of the part.  
> I hope you enjoy it, even though it is kinda depressing.  
> But, I loved writing it.

_Here I stand alone, with this weight upon my heart._.

_And it will not go away._.

_In my head I keep on looking back, right back to the start,_.

_Wondering what it was that made us change._.

Bruce watches Ashlee with careful eyes, imprints her gentle sway as she dances with Artemis and Megan, smiling. He can see what hides behind those bright green eyes; he's seen it many times before. Pain, regret. Everything he had felt as soon as he got wind of Alice's passing. Bruce hasn't really been the same. Ever since her death, he'd became more focused on the job, desperate to fight his demons by kicking criminal ass. He can't do it all the time, and that is when the pain comes back. The four am thoughts. The urge to just run away, never look back. To leave this life he had created for himself behind. Ashlee snorts when Artemis says something, and he sighs. He blocks what he feels. Ashlee will feel it, and he doesn't want her pity. It will just make him think more of Alice. And, you want to know why? Because Ashlee looks and acts just like her. He swallows the big lump in his throat, forces a smile at Diana, who gives him a worried look. She falls for it and carries on watching Ashlee talk to the boys, getting to know them. Bruce takes leave and goes to his quarters, walking slowly, hands hanging limp by his sides as he goes.

_Well I tried, but I had to draw the line._.

_And still this question keeps on spinning in my mind._.

He wants to cry. His heart aches for him to let out all of the pain, the hurt, the guilt. But, he refuses. He can't. It's been too long. He needs to let go of the past, let go of what happened. Move on, accept it. But... Something within him just won't leave go. No matter what he does. That single part of him holds on to the wisps of Alice he has left. But, he has something else to hold now. To look over. Ashlee. Her daughter. The little girl he wanted as his own. The little girl who looked up to him like a father. The little girl who is no longer innocent. He gets to his room and stops, breathing heavily. The little girl who grew up too fast. He opens the door and goes inside. it hisses closed quietly. He inhales the smell of dust, but does not open the window. He knows what the dust is. Knows where it is coming from.

_What if I had never let you go?_.

_Would you be the girl I used to know?_.

_If you stayed, if I tried, if we could only turn back time._.

_But I guess, we'll never know._.

He reaches up on top of his wardrobe, feeling around the old wood. His gloved hand knocks something and he closes his hands around it, grunting as he pulls it down. It is heavy. He knows exactly what is inside. Bruce smiles gently, rubbing the thick layer of dust of the lid of the medium sized blue box, with a deep purple ribbon tied around it. It was a gift from Alice. When he turned eighteen. It was full of everything. Pictures, souvenirs from her travels. Memories. He'd been trying to will himself to look inside the box again; it has been so long. But, he always but it off. Why? Because he was afraid to see everything he loved. His parents were gone. Alice was gone. His only family now were Alfred and Dick Grayson, whom he took in after he witnessed the deaths of his parents. It hit him hard, as he knew what it was like to watch your parents die in a dirty alley. Dick's didn't die in an alley, but you get the point. He was horrified. And took action. Dick is like a son to him. He takes a deep, shaky breath and opens the lid. He sees different sized pictures, some trinkets. A few letters that he'd wrote her. She put them all together in a box. For him to treasure. Bruce felt silly for not looking in it for so long. It means the world to him. He starts flicking through the pictures. Ashlee wearing her dress to the dance. How close they were to becoming more than friends. Then, Alfred interrupted and the two never tried again. He chuckles in a low voice, remembering how red Alice went, how wide her eyes opened. The breath against his face when she jerked back and looked to Alfred. How hard they laughed after he had gone. He picks up another photo, after gently placing the last down on the soft white covers of his bed. A picture of Bruce holding Alice in his arms, both battered and bruised, smiling. He remembers that as if it were yesterday. The exact words she had said, the way she fought to keep them both alive until back up came.

_Just give me a reason. A damn good one. You know I won't leave you, dammit._.

He puts it down, and sighs, head now in his hands. How things could have been...

_Many roads to take, some to joy, some to heartache,_.

_Anyone can lose their way._.

_And if I said that we could turn it back, right back to the start,._.

_Would you take the chance and make the change?_.

_Do you think how it would have been sometimes?_.

_Do you pray that I'd never left your side?_.

Tears well up in his eyes, the heat of them making him tut. He pulls his mask off returns to his hunched position. When Bruce is sure he can continue, he goes back to the box. He flicks through the small white notepad, the pages yellowing with age. He reads each and every piece of text, remembering how scruffy Alice could write, but how neat it was when she was focused. He lets out a small laugh at the corny jokes and the funny ones. Alice was full of comebacks and jokes. Enough to give Flash a run for his money. She was the life of the Justice League. And, she got snuffled out by a stupid wet road. Her wisdom was always a surprise. The day of his parent's funeral. She sat next to him, held his hand tightly and didn't let go until he had to go leave. She gave him the strength he struggled to find on his own. She gave him hope that things would look up. She made him a better person. She shaped his life. The life he leads now. Alice was the type of person, hero or not, to do some sort of good in the world. She could've been anyone. Alice could have been rich. But, she never cared about money. She loved life. She had money, plenty, but she didn't care. Didn't blow it the way Bruce did. If it wasn't for Alice's ways, her rules, her guidance, he would have been worse than he actually turned out to be. He still remained humble, but did get some bad press. But, no matter how many mistakes Bruce made, or how bad they were, Alice was always there to help pick him up. She always cared. She never did let go of him. Ever. Even when she got married to the jackass, and had the most beautiful child in the world. The child he now has. The child he will look after, no matter what. He failed Alice; he will not fail her daughter. He will not fail the only thing he has left of Alice.

_If only we could turn the hands of time_.

_If I could take you back, would you still be mine?_.

_What if I had never let you go?_.

_Would you be the girl I used to know?_.

_What if I had never walked away?_.

_'Cause I still love you more than I can say._.

_If I'd stayed, if you tried,_.

_If we could only turn back time._.

_But I guess we'll never know.._.

_We'll never know..._.

He closes the box, sadly, shoving it away from him. He stares at the last picture he got of Alice. In her stunning blue gown at his party. He smiles gently, running a finger across the smooth piece of card, staring at Alice's face, remembering everything about her that night. Her beauty, her charm; even her perfume. he places it down on the small pile and looks at the wall. Bruce knows one thong is for certain... Even though Alice Dener is gone, she will be the only woman that Bruce would ever truly love.


	5. Canary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashlee befriends Dick before the combat training. Superboy takes it little too hard on Canary, who is still injured from her last mission. Ashlee's caring side kicks in and she shows the rest of Young Justice what she can do. With hilarious results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the episode Canary is teaching some of the team combat, and she knocks the crap out of Wally and Conner. It was so funny to see that. But, it's different in a way.  
> Sorry if it is dialogue heavy.  
> Okay, so enjoy.

Sitting on the leather sofa, I watch the TV while I wait for combat training with Black Canary starts. I glance at the clock and estimate it starts in about half an hour. Bored, I slump back on the chair, trying to find something reasonable to watch and not something that will destroy my mental capacity. Someone sits next to me, and I jump a little, ready to run. I look and see Dick Grayson. His eyes are covered by the mask. I wonder what colour they are. His dark blue aura thrums and he returns my gaze. He has a chiselled jaw, soft cheekbones. I can see the muscles through the tight black shirt he wears. I swallow, hiding a blush and returning my gaze to the flat screen. Dick is Nightwing. An awesome fighter. An amazing acrobat. He was what I wanted to be. I saw him around Gotham. As Robin, then Nightwing. It took me a while to realize he had grown out of being Batman's sidekick. Dick seems quite.. What's the word I'm looking for? Affable. Don't what that word mean? Fine, it means friendly and easy to talk to. By his dark aura, maybe not. It is a pretty colour and I can't stop sneaking glances at it. It's hard to work out. Really hard. Dick sighs heavily.

"Why do you keep looking at the top of my head?" He asks. I close my eyes in embarrassment. _Shit... Busted._ I fumble with my fingers, feeling my cheeks heat up, probably scarlet now. Great. That's even better. Dick looks at me. 

"Er..." I stutter. Dick smiles at me, and I snort, amused, pressing my hand to my face. "It's embarrassing. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable." He knocks my shoulder with his fist gently. I shake my head softly, blonde hair swinging a little. How awkward is that? He caught me looking. 

"I bet it isn't," He says. I look at him, confused. I see his dark blue aura glitter with curiosity. He wants to know about my powers. Whoa, that's a first. He doesn't want to run away. 

"Well, I can see auras," I explain. He nods, listening. "The cloud around people's heads. It tells me what punch is going to be thrown, or emotions. Yours is... Pretty. it is dark blue, and it kept catching my eye." I say, finishing with a blush. He chuckles, cheeks going a dusty pink. I sense his pride. He liked that comment. Compliment. Whatever. Well, a plus to that is that I didn't babble some random shit. Dick sits a little closer, and I narrow one eye, awaiting. He throws a a punch, his aura screaming at me. I grab his fist, and twist his arm, flipping him off the chair. He lands on his feet, in a crouch, wincing. I leave go and he rubs his arm, grinning like a madman. 

"Well then..." He says and I laugh. He sits back next to me, and I turn to look at him, sensing his amusement. "Can you see your aura?" He asks. I think about it. Shake my head.

"No," I answer honestly. I wish I could. "I have tried, but it never works. My mother's was white. I think she said mine was red, but I can't remember." A wave of depression washes over me, and I smile at Dick, shrugging like it is no big deal. He looks genuinely impressed by my weird powers.

"It still sounds cool." He says with a nice smile. I feel my own lips curl in response. Someone comes and we both turn. I am met with Megan, her aura showing signs or excitement. 

"Come on," She says, beckoning to me and Dick. We both share a glance before leaping over the couch. "Canary wants us down." I sigh. Well, at least Dick likes me. I like him. He's cool.

***

Canary stands in the ring when we arrive. it is huge. It is electronic as well, and I see Wally on his back, looking a little bit injured by his encounter with the flooring. I hide a smirk and cover up a snort with a cough. I go over and stand with Artemis, who looks amused by her close friend's slip up. I high five her and Dick winks at me. My cheeks go bright red and Artemis digs me slyly in the ribs. I shoot her a glare and she just grins at me. 

"Getting close with Nightwing, are we?" She asks, waggling her eyebrows. I roll my eyes, shoving her. She leans to the side and snickers. 

"Shut up." I say weakly, my cheeks red. Damn her. Canary continues talking and I see her arm is bandaged neatly. She must have gotten injured on her last mission, but she seems unbothered by it. Her aura, is indigo, streaked with navy blue. It is as pretty as Black Canary herself. It suits her well. Very well, in fact. Superboy enters the ring, and Artemis nudges me hard. My ribs ache from this one, and I rub my side, glaring even harder at my friend. I sense her worry, and I see why. Conner looks somewhat angry. Canary keeps her cool and knocks him flying. Megan covers her mouth, shocked that her boyfriend got taken down that easy. 

"Good, you're angry," Canary says, hands on her hips as she watches Conner grit his teeth, emitting a low growl of some sort. "But don't react. Channel that angry into-" He runs at her, and she jumps over him, hand standing of his back, and sweeping him clean off his feet. Whoa. That was sweet. Conner rolls away from Canary and runs at her again. She barely has the time to move out of his way, his fists come fast and heavy. Artemis gasps when Conner manages to hit her injured arm. Canary yelps, skidding away from him, her pain making me stagger into the wall. Megan grabs my arm, steadying me.

"Stay out of my way!" Conner snarls, Canary sliding all over the place to get out of Conner's way. 

"Conner, stop!" She calls. Her arm loops around my waist. "You're forgetting Ashlee too!" Conner shoots a filthy look at his girlfriend, his anger adding to the pain in my head. Megan drops a little, my knees giving out. She loses her grip, and Wally reaches me before the floor does. Megan struggles to keep her calm. I shove away from Wally lightly, landing in a crouch. I watch Conner's aura. I see it. Drawing his arm back, Conner goes to land a heavy punch to Canary. Canary's fear hits me again and I flip over the table, shoving her out of the way. Dick shouts in warning as I somersault out of the way. He throws another fist, and I can't move back fast enough. His closed hand drives into my face, and my head whips back, my nose breaking under the force. I lock my jaw and eyes, staring at the ceiling, regaining focus. I stumble back, trainers sliding, squeaking on the polished flooring. My hands rise to my face instantly after I recover, and I close one eye, wincing. I glare at Superboy through the blur of tears, forced there from the impact and the break. 

"You bastard," I mutter quietly. "What the hell were you thinking, Conner?" I snap, voice raised. The others share glances, uneasy. They fear Conner and his temper. I do not. I see his red aura flicker outwards and roll my eyes. _Make the move already, Jesus._ Conner still looks angry. His emotions hit me like a truck, making my head spin. I groan, touching my temple. "Quit it with the emotion attack," I snarl, voice shaky. Dick comes forward but stops dead when Conner glares at him. He swallows, looking between us. 

"You got in my way!" He hisses at me, sounding like an angry cat. "You didn't listen to my order!" I set my jaw again, anger licking at me. He is not the boss of me. He doesn't own me, nor control me. I lower my hand, fingers scarlet. I can't breathe through my nose, so I let out a sigh. I clench my fists, controlling the angry comeback and ready myself in case he attacks. 

"Oh?" I ask, like I care. "Well, I got news for you Superbitch," The others snort and giggle at the nickname, pissing Conner off even more. I feel vicious pride go through me. "Listen to this!" I go forward, faster than a cheetah, and I pull my left leg back, kicking out. The ball of my foot hits him directly in the shin with a soft thump. Conner yelps, falling forwards, hands clasping the injured limb. He drops his head, breathing heavily. Seeing my chance, I seize his head, his dark hair slick with sweat and ram my knee in his face. I then flip over, hands still wrapped around his head and throw him across the ring. He bounces across the floor, coming to a stop on his back. He groans and I wipe my nose on my sleeve, which still bleeds. I go over and help him up, and he shakes me off, sending me sprawling. I flip over my hands, fists up, in case he tries again. He stalks off. The room spins again and I drop onto my ass, groaning. Rapid footsteps approach, and I see Dick, Artemis and Canary stood, looking at me. I rub my temple, the pain starting to cease. 

"Are you okay?" Artemis asks, worry in her voice. I nod. Dick helps me to my feet, holding a hand under my face when some blood drips off. He catches it and wipes his hands on his uniform, seemingly unbothered by it. He looks me straight in the eye and I go red again. Megan smiles. Fuck. Did she just read my mind? Megan locks eyes with me, shakes her head softly. No. Yes. Technically she did both. She must have read Nightwing's. I'll ask later. Right now, I am too focused on my face. It throbs, my nose feeling like it is vibrating. It feels so weird. I feel an arm slide around my waist lightly, and I notice it is Dick's. Canary looks so grateful, her eyes full of it, her aura full of gratitude. I smile at her, pulling away from Dick's arm. I beckon to her. She comes forward. 

"May I have your arm?" I ask. She looks hesitant, confused by my strange question, but she gives it to me. I unwind the bandage as gently as I possibly can. She doesn't feel it. I see a rather large gash, now open thanks to Conner's hit. I hold my hand over it. A soft hue of pink leaves my hand and Canary lets out a startled gasp. I focus my mind and I breathe deeply. The people present watch in awe as the skin around the wound heals over. I stop, hands dropping. The wound is almost gone. It is just red and scabby in places. She looks at me and back to the wound.

"Thank you." She says. It is all she can say. Her mind is blank. Dick grabs my back with his palm and brings me down to the floor gently. I smile at him, dazed. He chuckles.

"At least I know what colour your aura is now." He says uncertainly, and I laugh at him. He picks me up. I cough and roll out of his arms and land in a crouch. I give him a funny look, and Megan snorts. 

"I can walk, thanks." I say sternly. Dick just grins, flicking his hair from his eyes. He catches up to me, and keeps close by, leading me to the kitchen to get my face cleaned up. Dick is going to be a good friend, and an even better team mate.


	6. Not Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashlee has her work cut out for her, and use her sheer determination and will to take down an unknown assailant completely by combat, her powers being rendered useless against him. With her hands tied, she uses techniques she has only had to use once before, with promising results. She is thrown by the bombshell the masked enemy drops, and struggles to understand why. How does he know her name? What does that mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me again.  
> This chapter could be boring, yes, yes, but it seemed fitting right now.   
> I'm not very good with fight scenes, so I'm sorry if it is crappy or lengthy.  
> I did try.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Loud humming assaults my ears as I lean lazily back, the seat hard against my spine. It should bother me, but it doesn't. My first mission. Great. What if I fuck up? Shoving that thought away, I catch Conner glowering at me from the other side of the well lit jet. He has given me the cold shoulder since I kicked his ass the other day. He won't even come near me. This is going to be problematic if this mission goes south. We need to support each other, and if Conner can't stand to be in the same room as me, it isn't going to go down well. Conner's red aura thrums with hate and I sigh heavily, putting my head in my hands. Megan touches my back lightly, and I glance up at her. Her ginger hair is held back by a few light brown clips. Her eyes hold a look of concern and I see it in her aura as well. I smile lightly. She nods and understands almost instantly. Megan isn't stupid. She knows what Conner has been like with me, because they go out. All he does is complain, and Megan being my best friend passes it on, but defends me. It's nice to have a friend as good as her. And Artemis. I wouldn't forget her. You didn't think I would. Did you? I hope not. The pain in my head intensifies and I clench my jaw so I don't make a sound. _Conner..._ He's doing this on purpose. I sit up straight, forcing the pain behind my eyes. I catch Dick's eye. He smiles softly, and I return it happily, trying not to let him know there is a problem. I glare at Conner and I see a look of malicious pride on his face.

"You're an asshole," I spit, glaring at him. Batman rolls his eyes, masking moving with the movement. Conner tuts playfully and I want to jump out of my chair and smack him in the jaw. Prick. What does Megan see in him? I'm fucked if I know. Conner feels different emotions and I exhale heavily, rubbing my eyes. He moves over, making it harder not to hit him. I see his aura flicker and I grab his wrist before he has a chance to do anything. I look up at him, head throbbing. "Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you." I snarl, voice full of bitterness. Bruce turns his head upwards, looking at the roof of the jet, as if praying to some God. Conner tears his hand out of my grip and returns to his position near the rear of the jet, as far away from the rest of the team as humanly possible. Megan side hugs me, and I feel everyone's irritation. I cannot believe these fuckers. They think I'm the one causing the problems? I am being emotionally attacked by this bastard! I slump, rubbing my eyes again to rid them of the tears that have formed. They don't trust me. Nope. It is clear. I keep my face covered until we land. The ramp opens and I hear the thundering on the ground. I peek out and see rain heavily pouring. I smile softly, undoing my belt and following the others. I like the rain. Because, when I'm in it, it hides my tears. They fall without my permission, and I willingly let them. Nobody notices. Not like I care. Because, I don't. My brain whispers at me. _Liar, liar, liar._

***

 

A creepy laugh echoes off the walls, making everyone go stiff, weapons fists ready. My heart races hard, and I search the area, trying to spot anyone in the shadowed corners of the dimly lit area. I can't see anything. Orange licks at my hands, and I place them outwards, using the extra light to see. Another laugh that sends a chill down my back. Who is it? Where? The echo is making it extremely difficult to spot. To find the exact place the person is.

"I like your fire," The male voice says, sounding familiar to my ears. Like I have heard it before. "Too bad I'm going to have to put it out." I frown, and my senses spike. Before I have the chance to move, water cascades over me, soaking me. My hands burn and I screech, throat aching. I splutter, swallowing a mouthful of the water, which tastes no better than crap. I drop, hands trembling, the pain immense. Water doesn't mix with fire. Obviously. Ow. I groan, someone helps me to my feet, my knees shaking. I look up, water dripping off the end of my bruised nose. It is Dick, and he looks nervous. I feel it as well. He dries my hands with his own, rubbing soothing circles on the skin, which is bright red from the water. I smile softly, thanking him with it. He nods and releases me, and I suddenly wish he would keep hold of them. I don't know why. I just want him near me. I do not understand these emotions. I need to ask Megan. She'll know. I hope. I shiver, the water starting to seep through my uniform. I rub my arms, uncomfortable. I am well aware of how vulnerable I look. And feel. A sound alerts me, and I look up sharply, seeing a weirdly armoured man charging. Reacting quickly, I leap, using my feet to flip off his back. I send him to the floor face first, and I land in a crouch, turning as fast as I can. He is on his feet. Some men behind him. The others watch uneasily, readying themselves. The man with the shiny blue mask laughs cruelly and I get my feet. "Get them." Is all he says. They charge my friend, and this tosser charges me. Again.   
He goes for a kick, a high one. Ducking, I run up a wall and flip over him. I can't read his aura. He hasn't got one. At all. I cannot decipher his attacks. Meaning, I am disadvantaged. I can't even use my flames. Which makes me even more vulnerable. The others are struggling to get through the horde of thugs this guy had with him. He turns sharply. Roundhouses. I block the powerful block with my forearm, the force making my arm ache. He switches feet, going for my throat. I lean back to avoid the kick that would have crippled me. Whoever he is, he is well trained. Not as much as me. He throws punches, fast and heavy and I have to work. Blocking each and everyone, the fight near the doors is dying down. They must be winning. This guy, whoever the fuck he is, knows my every move. As if he knows me. He gives another swing to my face, and I drop. It gives him a a chance. Before I can skid out of his way, he shoulders me, lifting me up and running with me. I grunt, slamming my elbows, my fists, anything into his spine to make him drop me. No such luck. I feel my own back connect with the hard concrete of a wall, my head whipping back and cracking into it as well. Head spinning like a carousel, I hit him repeatedly. Blood pounding in my ears, adrenaline shoves all traces of pain from me. I'll feel it later. Now, I need to free myself. My legs give way. He drags me across the floor by my ankle and I go kicking with my free foot. I land one to the face. Doesn't bother him. I'm suddenly free. He slams me off the concrete, and I struggle to my feet, tired and beaten. He laces into me with a flurry off fists, that I can't even see. So much for being a good fight, huh? Anger licks at me. Up against the wall I go, ready for another bout. While he is trying to wind me, I get him in the tightest sleeper hold I can muster. He struggles. I keep going. Until he throws me off him casually. I bounce across, hitting Artemis in the back of the legs. She yells dropping over me, onto her back. She glares. Someone helps me up and I see Bruce. He raises an eyebrow. I wipe the blood from my lip. Rub my head, which aches dully.

"How are you losing?" He asks, sounding shocked. I look up at him stupidly. 

"He hasn't got an aura," I answer, getting to my feet, and helping Artemis up. Bruce nods. Waits for me to continue. "Which means, I can't use my techniques against him. And he is much faster. But, I have a chance. Get the mission done, and meet me back here. I'll hold him off." Bruce hesitates, mouth slack. He doesn't want to leave me, but he has no other choice. I can look after myself. Bruce doesn't need to babysit me. Nobody does. He finally gives a nod, swift and simple. I slap his shoulder and return to my opponent, who grins wickedly. I raise my fists, a steely look of determination on my face. 

"Ready for round two?" I ask. He just smiles.

***

He barely sees it coming. My pole catches him straight in the thigh and he stops dead, eyes wide. I spin it around my fingers, watching his every move. I take another swing, the power behind it making me grunt. He darts to the left. Avoids. Another. Avoids. I stop. Gesture for him to come at me. I wanna see what this asshole can actually do. My next swing of the pole as he rushes at me is a hit. I catch him in the arm and it makes him retreat backwards a little. Good. This is going okay for now. Using my pole for balance, while he is distracted, I spin, round housing him straight in the jaw. Hard. He jerks backwards, and I use the end of my pole and smack him directly in the sternum, before finishing on my feet. The guy hits the floor, grasping his chest, face contorted in pain. That was harder than I thought it would be. Going over carefully, I jump and drop kick him through a door. He screams the whole way. Wood splinters, dust filling the air. I land on my ass. Jump to my feet. Like nothing happened. The others are nearby. They nod. I hear a noise and look through the door. The dude is on his feet, half conscious.

"This isn't over," He snarls, voice full of hate. "We'll see each other again, Ashlee." My jaw goes slack, and he throws a smoke canister on the floor, sending plumes in my face. I am unbothered by it. I stare, dumbfounded. He knew my name. Who is the person? How did he know my name? When the light grey smoke finally clears, the man, as expected, is gone. I wave my hand casually, dispersing the last wisps of it. I struggle to think of who this person is. He knows my true identity, even if I am wearing a mask. How? Someone punches my arm lightly, and I twist, grabbing the fist and flip the person. Nightwing yelps and I stop mid flip, using a pink wave of energy to stop him hitting the floor. He makes a confused sound and looks at me, grinning.

"Sweet." He says simply as I set him down lightly. My hands sting from the punches and the water. I sigh, rubbing my forehead. Megan notices something is wrong and comes over. She looks me straight in they. Fuck... She knows that makes it difficult to lie. And, she can read my mind, so it wouldn't matter anyway. I'm a bad liar as it is. Unless I'm trying to save my own ass. Apart from that, I suck. One look is enough to make me sigh and the others stand behind Megan, starting to show nerves. 

"What is it?" Megan asks, voice gentle, but I hear the order hidden behind it. Even if I won't tell her what is bothering me, she'll find out. Megan has a 'take no prisoners' attitude when it comes to her friends hiding their pain. I hide it well, very well, but that threw me. Knocked me for six. I have no idea how he knew my name. For some reason, I don't want to. It freaks mew out enough as it is. What if I found out he's like a stalker? I shudder softly, just enough for Megan to pick up. "Talk to me." I meet her soft gaze. Sigh. 

"He knew my name." I respond finally, sounding quieter than usual. They can tell it has knocked me a little. "He called me Ashlee before he threw that smoke grenade." They shrug, not knowing the answer, not being able to settle my thoughts. Dick must see this as he comes forth, patting my shoulder softly, smiling at me. I feel my own lips to curl up in response. I don't know what I am feeling, but... I think I like it. Yeah... I do. I haven't felt this before, and it feels good. Dick is nice. He seems to have that personality. It's great. 

"You did good," He says, hugging me and linking arms with me. I snort, rolling my eyes. He kicked my ass first. I needed to watch how he moved, learn his patterns. It worked, in some respect. I managed to overpower him with the use of my trusty pole. Thank God I remembered I had that. Or I would have been thrown all over the place and humiliated. Dick returns his masked eyes to me, a small smile tilting his lips. "Let's go." We leave, all of us. I may be smiling, but inside churns with thoughts. He will come back. I can feel it in the air. And this time, he'll know better.


	7. Promises, Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce understands why Ashlee wants to be alone on this day he hates as well. Dick doesn't quite grasp it until he finally clicks on to what day it is. Mother's Day. day he had trained himself to forget.   
> Ashlee makes a promise to her mother, and to a person she finds herself caring for in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda depressing, I am sorry. It's been a rough couple of days, and this is one way of letting it out.  
> It skips between Ashlee's point of view and third. I'll label it so people don't get confused.  
> I promise not all chapters are sad.   
> So,anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

_Third POV (Point Of View)_

Today is the day Ashlee disappeared for a few hours with no reason and Dick didn't understand. He knew what day it was, but he didn't know her well enough of the ritual she forced herself into every single year. Bruce did. He used to do it. But, not today. Today is Mother's Day. A day that completely wrecks Ashlee. No matter what he does, how much he comforts her, no matter the words he says, Ashlee shakes him off. He knows that she wants to be alone to day. Bruce only wishes the others would stop asking and wondering. Dick is clearly worried about her, and Bruce finds it adorable, but Dick is starting to get a little to close to home. He wants to track her cellphone. He wants to ask her where she's been. Time for Bruce to step in and ease the others off Ashlee's back. They all have different ways of coping on this dreadful day, a day Bruce doesn't really know much anymore. Ashlee needs time on her own to speak with her dead mother. Even if it is just a cold, slate grey stone. If Ash wants to do that, she can. It is normal. He remembers when he used to talk to his parents. He shuts off his mind, blinks a few times and sighs when Dick paces the room. 

"What if she's in trouble?" He states, flustered and nervous, hands clasped behind his back. Bruce shakes his head, getting the attention of the young hero. He glares at Bruce. 

"She needs time," Bruce says in a low voice, resting his forearms on his knees, watching Grayson carefully. "You know Ash isn't exactly the most emotionally stable person." Dick makes a scoffing sound, rolling his bright blue eyes, Bruce catching a look of understanding in his eyes, even though he tries to cover it up. Bruce knows the former Robin too well. He knows he cares for Ashlee more than he lets on. It's obvious to everyone but her, it appears. A light rain had started to fall, and Bruce watches Dick turn the radio on, a song he doesn't recognize coming out at a low volume. Dick bobs his head a little to the quick beat, turning it up just a bit louder so he can hear it better. He is trying to clear his head. Bruce returns his empty gaze to the dreary sky and wonders what Ashlee is doing. How she is doing. 

_Ashlee's POV (Point Of View)_

Finally, I arrived at the cemetery, after driving around the city, trying to waste the tears. Today is the day I've hated since that accident. Mother's Day. What is the point? I have no one to spend it with now. Oh, wait yes I do. I can spend a few hours with a fucking gravestone. How cheerful. Rain taps on the glass and I punch the steering wheel of my car, angry. Why does Gotham have to fuck everything up? Ugh. One day I wanted it to be sunny. One day I could actually smile. Obviously, not today. Never does have a happy atmosphere this place. I hate it. Especially today. I undo my seatbelt, calming myself as I step out into the rain, shivering. I wish I put a bigger coat on. But, then again, I wouldn't mind freezing to death. Not right now. I want to curl up in a ball and die. It's the same every year. Some days are harder than others, I guess. All days are never the same. Ever. I have a new family, and they trust me. They look after me. They understand what I am going through, and help when I ask, and offer when I don't. I love having people that actually care. People I can go to when I need to. I don't do it often, but they know when I need help and when I need to be left alone. Today is one of the alone days. I need it. I don't want to burden anyone. I open the other door and reach in, hands closing around the slippy pink plastic that covers the stems of the soft pink lilies and the baby pink roses. My mother's favourite flowers. In my colour aura. She loved pink roses. Lilies are dainty. Just like her. I walk hands around the flowers, brain shutting down to any thoughts. I near a slate grey stone and now exactly it is hers. I see a muddy puddle has started to form, my hair hanging in dark strings around my face, uncomfortably aware of my shirt sticking to my skin. I drop to my knees, flowers slipping from my damp fingers, landing at the base. Lowering my head, fresh tears sting my eyes. A few people walk by and seem to notice me hug the stone to me, chest pressing against the smooth rock as I close my eyes and cry. The rock is nothing compared to my mother's arms. It is cold, my mother was warm. The rock is rough round the edges, my mother was always smooth. I bump my forehead against the front of it, vision blurred. I read the name repeatedly. _Alice Dener. A wonderful mother. A loyal friend. Fly high, angel. Fly high._ The gold text makes my eyes burn even more. I sob loudly. 

"Mom," I whisper, throat hoarse. "Why? Why did you have to die? I have all these questions." I sigh heavily, clenching my fingers, which are now ice cold, around the corners. I'm pretty sure they bleed. Not like I care. I shudder softly, wanting to stay here forever. Be with my mother. "I love you," I add, swallowing past the huge lump in my throat. 

"I miss you. Would you be proud of what I have become? Thank you... For teaching me. It is because of you, I know life." I kiss the stone, tasting rain water. I keep holding onto the stone, getting colder. I hold it like my life depends on it. Like it will bring Alice Dener back to me. Soon, I release the rock, red mixing with water as I peel my icy fingers away. Shit... Maybe, just maybe, I held it too tight. I wipe the blood on my wet jeans and run a hand over the text, feeling how it bumps over my fingers. I wipe my tears and get up, jeans soaked through, knees caked in dirt. 

"I'll be back soon, mother," I say, turning my head to the sky, rain getting in my eyes as I do. "I promise." I walk away, hands shoved in my pockets. One more promise to make... To someone close. I need to... Before it is too late.

_Third POV (Point Of View)_

The doors slide open, gaining everyone's attention. Bruce sees Ashlee, her long blonde hair darkened with water, make-up running, clothes dripping wet. Her knees are caked in slowly drying mud and he can see how red and puffy her eyes are. He knows how much she has cried. Bruce may not be Ashlee, but he feels everyone's concern. Ashlee locks eyes with Bruce and they share an understanding. Dick stands up and she slips and slides over to him. Dick meets her teary eyes and she slams into him, in a huge hug that makes Bruce smile softly. He knows how close they are slowly becoming. He likes witnessing it. He ships them hard. And, he means _hard_. Ashlee takes Dick's hand and hauls him after her. Dick shoots Bruce a confused look, but Bruce shrugs. He has no idea. He'll find out, though. He always does. He is Batman for a reason, y'know. Dick can't take Ashlee's shivering anymore and he pulls off his jacket, wrapping it around her hunched shoulders. She jumps a little, but relaxes and smiles softly at him, in thanks. He sees his chance and sweeps her up, making her squeak in surprise, her pale cheeks going scarlet. She knows he is a warm force. He knows she can feel it. She slips her arms around his neck, and he is unbothered by the cold feeling, the water running down the back of his neck. His friend is more important. She buries her cold face against his neck and his breath hitches at the sudden act. He smiles down at Ashlee, who he notices is crying silently against him, her grip turning vice-like. He stops, seeing his room is closer. He continues, watching Ashlee bite her lip mildly as she tries to stop the tears. He enters his room and places her down. She raises an eyebrow, taking in his clean room. He goes over to his drawers and pulls out a jumper that is now too small for him and some sweats. He hands them to her and she smiles, cheeks dusty pink.He sits on the bed, and not long later she reappears, looking adorable in his clothes. They are much too big for her, but she seems content. Dick sees she still has tear stains and he pulls her to him. Before Grayson can ask what is wrong, she speaks up, sounding broken and tired. It makes him hurt. 

"I miss her so much, Dick," She finally speaks, breaking the silence and spilling her guts to him, knowing that she can trust him. Dick listens, waiting. She clutches his shirt, bunching the fabric up between her cold fingers. "I wish I could see her smile after I gave her a gift. I wish I could make breakfast in bed. I just wish she was here. But, she's gone," Ashlee cries into his shirt, and he holds her tightly to his chest, feeling her pain. He and Ashlee are no much different. His parents died in front of him. Her mother died in front of her. Her father walked out. He knows that much. That would hurt even more. Because, she lost everyone. Dick wants to protect her the most out of everyone on the team. He likes her. Not just because she is a good fighter. He can see the survivor hiding behind her pretty eyes. It makes him feel weak. Why? Ashlee probably has a bigger set of balls that he has. He smiles softly, running a hand soothingly down her back, trying to calm her down. 

"I know, Ash," He says softly, running a hand over her hair, feeling the damp strands slide between his fingers. He rests his chin on the top of her head, humming lightly. "I go through it too." She nods and wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. He feels the coldness of her fingers and grabs her hand, holding them close to his heart, trying to warm her up a bit. 

"Dick?" She says, a question in her voice. Dick looks down at her, cheeks reddening at how... Pretty she looks against him. How perfect she feels in his arms; how she fits against him. Dick rolls his eyes at his thoughts, scolding himself mentally. _Dick, no. You barely know each other._

"Yeah?" He replies. She pulls back and he wipes the remaining tears away with his thumbs and she looks to the wall, going all shy. She returns her green eyes when she regains her composure. He waits for her to say something. 

"I want to say something and I want you to shut up and listen," She orders, the playful tone he hears all of the time back in her cracked voice. He offers her a small smile, nodding. "Okay...I promise I'll always be here for you." Dick feels his cheeks heat up and he clenches his hand around hers, not wanting her to make anything. Promises get broken. Easily. Dick gives her a quizzical loom, not sure if she is being truthful with him. If she is only saying it to make him feel better. 

"I promise I will be there when no one else is." She meets his gaze, eyes full of truth. Dick can feel the waves of honesty, loyalty, coming off her. The waves she is sending to him. "And I promise, I will always protect you," She hugs him and Dick hugs back, feeling tears sting his own eyes. He swallows, trying to suppress his emotion. Ashlee is being honest. He'll be there for her, he'll protect her. They'll look after each other. He knows it. 

"No matter what." She adds quietly, her breath warm against his ear. They sit together, holding each other, until he feels Ashlee go limp and her breathing slows down to a deeper rhythm. He glances down and sees her slumped against his chest, fast asleep, worn out from all of the crying she has done. He smiles at her sleeping figure. He can't be bothered to carry her too her room so he shifts her to the side gently, so that he doesn't disturb her. She stirs, and mumbles incoherently, but falls still. Dick chuckles quietly. Ashlee looks so peaceful after all she has been through. Finally, resting properly. He pulls the comforter back and raises Ashlee up against his chest, twisting round to lie her down and took her in. He hesitates as he stands up, and he plants a small kiss on her forehead, before he turns to leave. Dick swears he saw Ashlee smile, but he didn't know if he was seeing shit or not. He closes his bedroom door as quietly as he can muster and makes his way back to Bruce, a light pink blush coating his cheeks.


	8. Caring Goes A Long Way Sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashlee has a major mother mode when Damian Wayne, the youngest member of the team (and the one who reminds Ashlee of herself when she shut down) has a problem. She looks within herself to comfort the mini hero, knowing what it is like and seeing through his cold attitude- and attitude that he holds with the others, including his father, but drops when Ashlee helps him. Ashlee can't help but wonder why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be better, I hope. I got bored and I was meant to be cleaning my room.   
> Where this came from, I have no idea. Just go with it.   
> Sorry if it's short. There is only so much I can write when I'm meant to be cleaning XD  
> Hope you enjoy it anyway.

I inhale, smelling something heavy and sweet and I stretch my arms, opening my eyes and seeing a white ceiling, the harsh lighting nearly making me hiss as I look into it. Christ, since when were lights that bright? I raise an eyebrow and then click on to where I am. I glance at the alarm clock and it reads eleven forty pm. Damn. Missed food. Never mind. I sit up carefully, seeing Dick passed out on the couch, curled up slightly, arms resting under his head. I stretch out with my senses and note that he is actually fast asleep. I smile gently, watching his chest rise and fall at a comfortable pace, his breathing slow and gentle. Getting up, I quietly pull the blanket off and walk over. Dick stirs and I hold my breath, not wanting to startle him or wake him up. He looks so peaceful for once. Not tense. Not pissed off. Not stressed. Sleep must be his escape. Like music is mine. I cover him up and walk to the door, dimming the lights as I go. Closing the door, I see Diana stood near her room, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She locks eyes with me, and smiles. She pats my arm gently as I walk past, and I stop looking at her. 

"Good night, Ashlee," She says in a low voice, so that she doesn't wake whoever may be sleeping up. I nod, giving her a smile in return. 

"Good night, Diana," She chuckles, entering her room as I continue on my way to the kitchen to eat. My stomach rumbles and I place my hand against it, glaring. I walk in and see Clark and Batman sat talking. I offer a wave and they return it. They then resume whatever the fuck they were talking about. To be honest, I don't care. I care about food right now. The kitchen is empty, surprisingly. I usually come in and Wally is sat eating. He eats a lot, but that's expected considering he is Kid Flash. If I don't finish eating my food, I'll shove it over to Wally. He eats anything and everything. One day, I'll prank him. Laxatives are good fun. I snort, rolling my eyes as I move past the chairs, thinking about how that would play out. The look on Wally's face. I giggle in an evil fashion. That needs to happen one day, and my phone would be out waiting. What am I saying? My phone will be out and waiting. This is going to happen. 

***

As I get to the fridge, something barrels into my chest and I topple backwards, landing on my ass, a startled sound escaping me. My butt hurts and I grimace, sighing heavily. Was I too focused on my thoughts and food that I didn't see anyone coming? I rub the base of my spine, feeling slender, but slightly muscular arms wrap around my torso and link at my back. A face buries itself on my shoulder, hidden from my view. Frowning, feeling fear radiate from the person, I look down at the glossy black hair of the youngest member, Damian. Normally, the new Robin would be moody and a recluse, never talking to anyone but Dick and Bruce. I put it down to the fact he was raised by his mother, not that I know her. I don't know much, really. Damian never shows affection, never hugs, so this is a surprise to me. He seems very content burying his face into the shirt that smells like Nightwing. I continue to let my brows knit together as I hear Bruce come in, sensing his presence, his nervousness and surprise. I hold a hand up and he stops moving towards us. I shrug, meeting Bruce's eyes. Bruce has a soft smile on his lips. I return my attention to the kid. Damian hasn't moved an inch. 

"Damian?" I question, voice soft and gentle. A tone he would usually punch someone if they used it. A few moments of silence pass. I move my hands, resting them on his shoulders, feeling the soft material of his shirt, going to pull him away so I can meet his eyes. Small arms tighten around me and I take that as a hint that he is not moving. Sighing, I glance around the kitchen, seeing only Bruce and no one else. My mothering intensifies. Good. I can be a big softie with Damian now. I was a kid once. Not for long, but I was. Moving on... Hesitantly, I shift my hand through his hair, sitting up a little bit straighter. Again, another action that would get someone hit or insulted. Still, Damian doesn't shift. I hold his head to my shoulder, waiting for a change. Nothing. My other arm loops around Robin's back and I rub careful circles, soothing circles. I feel a gentle shake in the muscles that I hadn't before. I now know what is bothering him. I chuckle softly, holding him tightly. "Nightmare?" ?" I ask in a whisper so that Bruce doesn't overhear. A small nod. His chin brushes my shoulder. Nothing in his dull maroon aura shows he is going to let go. I don't mind it. He trusts me for some reason. I ponder that reason while we sit together in silence. Everyone may have thought Damian to be a bit of an ass, but he may have seen things growing up. I don't know. I don't feel comfortable asking. The questions are private. I wonder what Damian isn't telling any of us. Or can't. Maybe Damian doesn't like to talk about his childhood, even though he is only ten. I think. This moment here, makes perfect sense. I start to feel like an idiot for not noticing Damian sooner. I use a mask of happiness, cheer, jokes to hide what I really feel. Me, being like that, should have known that the new Robin was shutting his emotions down. Like I had done all of those years ago. I should have seen straight through it. My lips curve into a gentle smile, a smile to comfort. 

"It's okay, now," I coo quietly, rocking side to side softly. "I get them as well. You're not alone, Damian." A feeling of pride goes through me. I am somewhat honoured that Damian wanted me to help him, wanted me to look over him ,in a way. Trusted me. He could have gone to Bruce, but he ran into me instead. Accidental? Possibly. But, if it was, why would he stay? I don't know the answer. I'm just happy I could help him a little. Damian finally moves his head and his eyes meet mine. They are a little watery, the redness starting to fade. It makes me tighten my grip on the kid as my mother instinct intensifies. My circles still continue as I trace them on his back, slowly and softly, calming him. I feel the waves coming from his aura. I'll be there for Damian as long as he needs me. I smile down at Damian. 

"What do you say to some TV?" I ask, a smile in my voice. Damian offers a little one back. "Come on then." I stand up and lift Damian up with me, Damian giving me a confused look. I wait for him to kick me and make me let him down. Nothing. His arms drape over my shoulders and he presses his knees against my sides. I won't drop him. His head rests on my collarbone, and he seems fine. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, and the other near the base of his spine. I know what I'm doing. my mother used to carry me like that if I fell asleep. I walk back into the living room and see Bruce and Clark. Bruce looks to us and smiles. I feel his warmth and grin, raising a finger to my lips, in case he startles Damian. Bruce and Clark suddenly leave, probably to give Damian some peace and quiet. I smile at their thoughtful gesture. I sit down, shifting Damian over to my side and he snuggles into my ribs and I chuckle softly, quietly. I let him flick through the channels lazily, the colours changing whenever he does. 

"Why did you help me?" He asks in such a quiet voice that I strain to hear him as he says it. I wonder why he would ask such a question, but he might mean it in a good natured way. By his aura, I can tell he is curious to know. 

"Because I know how you feel." I say back, as he settles on a programme I have never heard of. I don't focus on it. I focus on the youngest member, who lies against my side, his eyes fixed on the screen as he watches whatever is happening with interest. 

 

"Can I ask you a question, Ashlee?" He says, and I look down at him again, seeing his eyes are now on me, wide and not as red as they were. I nod, letting him continue. "Why are you so caring. Nobody would bother to listen, apart from Bruce.... And Dick." I smile, feeling fuzzy inside at the compliment. No-one pays attention to the fact I care. Too much. It suits me just fine. They'll see it eventually. Damian waits for to answer and I clear my throat.

"I picked it up from my mother," I say, ignoring the pang I get when I say it. "She was nice to me all of the time, and I had a mothering instinct over you." He smiles warmly at that, seemingly unbothered by the fact that I actually felt like a mother when Damian needed someone. Damian's eyes droop a little and he snuggles closer to me. 

"You'd be a good mom," He whispers sleepily. Tears spring to my eyes and I smile down, running a gentle hand through his hair. He is soon asleep and I sit watching TV with wandering thoughts. Would I be a good mother? Would I really? I smile gently and rest my head on the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling and sighing. I guess it's up to fate to decide that. Not me.


End file.
